


Do You Remember The Colour Of Your Eyes?/On Me, So Very Warm On Me

by TheBoneStag



Series: Tarts And The Like [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Baked Goods, Comfort Food, Dessert & Sweets, Fluff, Food, Food Issues, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 00:03:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17436038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBoneStag/pseuds/TheBoneStag
Summary: Draco drops by Harry's usual brunch lounge café to bring him a homemade treacle tart.(It's a tart shell! Not! A pie crust! What the bollocks are you laughing at Potter? Finish your damned tart and wipe that silly grin off your face already-)





	Do You Remember The Colour Of Your Eyes?/On Me, So Very Warm On Me

**Author's Note:**

> 「Wild Child - Pillow Talk」

"Oi."

A plastic bag was dumped unceremoniously right before his face, smacked right over the documents he had just been proofreading. Harry rolled his eyes but couldn't help a fond smile when Draco came to pull up a chair opposite him, a hand pushing his metallic blond hair back. 

"What's this?" Harry sniffed the air, already taking out the steaming pie box from its plastic confines. He yelped at the sudden heat, hand jerking away. Wincing and cursing under his breath, he brought his fingertips to his mouth, blowing gently.

"It's piping hot you idiot, don't just stick your hand on it." Draco grumbled, but reached out to take Harry's hand anyways, kissing his fingertips gently. "It's a tart, freshly-baked from our oven. You'd know if you weren't so eager to get your hand burnt before even glancing at the plastic."

"Well sue me if I appreciate your _tender_ love and care." Harry scoffed lightly, to which Draco raised an eyebrow, pausing his gentle kisses.

"Another word, Potter, and I'll stop mommying your fingers here."

Harry smirked to himself and wisely shut up at that. He gently parted the plastic bag, revealing a white pie box with the words **_𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢'𝔰 𝔓𝔦𝔮𝔲𝔞𝔫𝔱 𝔓𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰_** printed in elegant handwritten font on the front, decorated with gold flourish and highlighted beige lines. At the bottom left, there was a small sticker warning about it being simmering hot after purchase of fresh-baked goods.

He caught a whiff of treacle.

Harry raised his head, this time cocking an eyebrow at Draco. The blond man scowled, cheeks flushing slightly. He suckled gently on Harry's red fingers before answering:

"It's a new recipe I've been trying. I know you like treacle tart."

Harry couldn't stop smiling even as he blew onto the box, allowing it to cool in the autumn air. Once he deemed it warm enough, the man took a proffered fork from Draco, freeing his now perfectly fine and suitably kissed hand; and opened the lid.

The tart was _gorgeous_. Hell, Harry found that to be an understatement. It was as if Merlin himself had came down from whatever heavens he was lounging in to specially bewitch treacle and flour and eggs together to form this golden, steaming beauty before him. He inhaled deeply, the cloying honey of treacle filling his nose.

He groaned, eyes opening to smile at Draco.

The man was scowling, but his face was definitely redder than before.

"It looks and smells bloody amazing, love." Harry complimented, smirking when the baker ducked his head, full-on blushing this time. Three months into their relationship and Draco was still not used to sweet endearments delivered to him. How adorable.

"Well go on." Draco gestured lightly towards the tart, sneaking Harry's iced crème frappucino to sip at the straw. Its rich toffee taste and caramel scent reminded Draco of butterbeer, albeit less frothy. He watched intently as Harry raised a fork to slice into the tart, breaking its lattice crust and releasing a sliver of steam.

The smell of treacle and a twinge of lemon wafted out. Harry was practically salivating over the tart, cooing at its golden glory and cutting up a small bronze chunk for himself. Draco watched as the Auror blew gently, making sure not to burn his tongue, before taking the entire mouthful of tart.

Flavours exploded across his taste buds. The _just-right_ texture of the tart crust with its buttery softness on the side of perfection, the gooey, hot plushness that was warm treacle melting on his tongue. The textures were unbelievable, the crust made to be like that of a cross between a cookie and a scone. The smell of syrup was strong, no scent of char at all. And to top it all off, there was a squeeze of lemon somewhere in the mix, accenting the rich sweetness with a bit of sour that balanced the entire tart very well indeed.

"Well?" The baker asked, a hint of anxiousness in his voice when Harry did not respond for a full minute, silently savoring his mouthful. Harry chewed, making sure to make the gooey, warm treacle last as long as possible. He swallowed, and blinked at Draco.

"It's _bloody fantastic._ " came the mumble, before Harry was spearing his fork back into the tart and shoveling more pastry into his mouth, moaning and grunting happily all the while. 

Draco watched, resting his cheek on a hand as he smiled softly, watching his boyfriend devour the tart. All those years spent eyeballing him while he wolfed down those miniature treacle tarts in Hogwarts was worth it for this moment right here.

"Easy, _easy,_ " Draco chided lightly, reaching over to pat Harry's back when the Auror coughed. He pressed the straw of his drink to Harry's mouth, making sure the man had taken a few sips before letting go. "Always so impatient."

"Draco love, this is delicious-here, have you tried some for yourself when you baked it?" Before Draco could answer, Harry was already pressing a forkful of treacle tart against his open mouth. Smiling, he took a bite. Closing his eyes, he sighed as the warm taste of syrup filled his mouth. It was mellow and rich, reminded him of hot summer afternoons and winter mornings spent baking pies.

"It's good," the baker answered, licking his lips for crumbs. The lingering scent of butter was light and airy, so was the twist of lemon juice. Oh who was he kidding, it was _bloody fantastic!_ As Harry had put it ever so gently. He'd have to add this to the seasons' specials for the bakery during winter. It'd surely be a big hit, especially among children.

Maybe if he had extra time afterwards he could take a day off and go downtown to let the homeless men and women whom were close to them try a tart or two as well. With Harry at his hip of course.

(Or Draco across the man's lap.)

He'd have to tweak the recipe slightly though, Mr. Seamore was a recovering diabetic patient, and he did always love a good hot tart or pie to dig into during weekends-

"Love?" 

Draco opened his eyes, blinking. Harry was smiling at him, an amused expression on his face. The Auror reached out and linked their hands together, intertwining their fingers. Draco sighed quietly, letting Harry kiss his knuckles.

"Thinking about opening our soup kitchen again next season?"

"You know, if I didn't know Snape had taught you Legilimency there would've been no doubt I'd thought you were a born Legilimens," Draco muttered, seemingly annoyed. Harry gave him one last kiss on his fingers, before standing up and taking his hand.

"Come on then."

Draco cocked a brow.

"The bakery opens in approximately half an hour, no? Since I've finished my paperwork early, _curse Simons and his unintelligible handwriting,_ I'll help you with the guests out front. Come on."

Draco smiled then, eyes softening before standing up and tucking his apron in properly. The papers on the table disappeared with a flick of Harry's hand. Draco then let himself be led out from the metal seat and wooed back to his bakery. _Their_ bakery. And when they entered the building, Draco switched the hanging sign from  ** _𝔚𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔢 𝔟𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔟𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔲𝔯 ~_**  to  _ **𝔖𝔩𝔬𝔴 𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥**_ before being hugged by Harry at his waist. They waddled into the kitchen, front to back like that, all the while Draco scolded Harry for being **_such a child, how did I ever fall in love with you-_**

_A dramatic gasp. **You love me? Oh Draco-**_

The empty pie box lay there on its metal table, plastic bag billowing in the wind. It's insides void of any hint of tart or treacle, except for small smears of gold at the corners.

**Author's Note:**

> https://whereismyspoon.co/harry-potters-treacle-tart/


End file.
